Dreams 07
Lynch You stare up at the night sky, waiting for the stars to indicate the proper time to act. Finally, a falling star flashes, giving you the signal to start, and the direction. You wander through overgrown streets for a time, sniffing out the trail. The town or city appears to have been abandoned for some time, though there are occasional signs of intermittent habitation: burned out fires through the broken windows of a drugstore, not-quite-empty cans of food, a certain anticipatory stillness to the air. Eventually, you recognise a specific tang in the air, and duck into a refuse-filled alley. You entice a rat to you with some fresh food, and grab it quickly, reciting as it claws and bites at your hand, "Vernek Zhathog kbaren, gheshthret thragn, m'ntregl kooshth," and crush the rodent, squeaking fiercely, into a gobbety mess. You feel your consciousness rise, slowly at first, then with dizzying speed, until you settle into a new point of view: low to the ground, panoramic, oddly colored and a little grainy, but the sense of smell is unbelievable nuanced. Now, you know exactly how to proceed, and soon guide your now minuscule form into a darkened warehouse, where you recognise the scents and faces of the mine bosses, the men who betrayed you, counting their money and laughing, smoking cigars. Fire, you think, will be the best way. Surround the place with flames, then send in another proxy to watch them scream and burn. You relax your grip, and blink at the light adjustment back in your alley, whistling lightly as you prepare to get the gasoline, your good mood wafting you away into further pleasant dreams. Matheson The incessant wet organic rot of this jungle remorselessly attacks everything. From ants infesting the wiring of the radio, to moss growing on the controls, to slugs lying in wait within the casing of the stoves, and some sort of egg sac attached to a lantern. They are slowly taking over everything mechanical, transforming them into something pulsing, living, unpredictable, and messy. Soon, the only way to operate the radio is to offer it food, the telegraph will only function if exposed to sufficient sunlight, and the stoves will heat food if cajoled and petted in the proper fashion. There aren't even any bolts or screws left, no method of accessing the interior for repair or improvement. You are frustrated and annoyed, and try to think of workarounds every night as you fade into sleep. Russel You wake in the camp, and you are alone; there is no trace of anyone having been there. You call out the names of the others- Moore, Luo, Greene, even Lynch, but your voice simply fades against the wood and dead leaves of the jungle. You feel a profound sense of loss, as if something is missing, but you can't remember what. Your pockets are empty, no jewelry, no ideas. You wander through the oppressive heat of the jungle, searching blindly. A clearing appears, containing your office desk, a bookshelf, your liquor cabinet, but no clues. You move on to your dresser, looking oddly appropriate in a Bacuri tree, but the clothes folded inside have no enlightenment for you, and hide nothing of significance to jog your recollections. A noise in the eerily quiet jungle spurs you onward, and you follow the sounds of life: monkeys calling to each other up in the canopy, the complaining of birds, even the swift tread of a pair of tiny spooked deer. Then you hear a growl ahead of you, see malevolent reflective eyes in a branch ahead of you, and stop stock still. You edge backward, glancing behind you, and see another jaguar silently padding into place. Moments later, another joins it, and you are shortly surrounded by patient grinning felines. You turn in all directions, frantically looking for a way out, to no avail. The back of your mind is screaming, desperately searching for the memory you had, sure that it would protect you, keep you safe. One of the black cats tenses, preparing to jump, and you wake suddenly back in camp, breathing heavily. XianQi The travel has been hard and dangerous, but a learning experience, as well. These primitives deep in the jungle have a particular expertise in herbal lore, and unique materials unknown elsewhere in the world. With their knowledge of local flora, and your experience with chi flows, you have been able to keep the group more or less healthy for the past few months, and have even succeeded in keeping the spiritual infection of several of the members from progressing, though it seems tenacious, and unwilling to fade. With the combination of your skills and available material, though, you are sure it is only a matter of time before even more wondrous healing abilities become available to you. The last village you went through talked of two Fawcetts traveling together, years ago, and of how they were captured by a local tribe. Now you are in that tribe's territory, and the expeditionary party will surely shortly find the two missing men. If alive, you will heal them so they can return home. If only bones remain, you will attempt a miracle to make them whole again, and hear their story. You prepare your gear for whatever eventuality occurs. The vision fades as you make yourself ready. Category:Dreams Log